


forevermore, evermore, you and i

by celestialfics



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Reunions, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 06:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14732093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialfics/pseuds/celestialfics
Summary: Steve visits Bucky in Wakanda.





	forevermore, evermore, you and i

**Author's Note:**

> so i wrote this to make myself feel better after infinity war and it worked kind of except now im even sadder. LMAO  
> this is inspired by the directors of infinity war saying that steve probably visited bucky in wakanda after he came out of stasis <3  
> title from take me on by joan !
> 
> no spoilers for infinity war, just the soft, feel good reunion they deserve

Steve is asleep when she first calls him. He wakes to the buzz of his burner flip-phone beside his head, groaning a bit as his eyes flicker open. He’s been asleep—he checks the time on the phone before flipping it open—an hour.

“Captain Rogers?” Shuri’s voice is far from clear over the old speakers of the phone, but Steve is glad to hear her nonetheless.

“Hey, Shuri,” Steve’s volume is hardly above a whisper as he sits up from the cot that he’d arranged haphazardly at their current hideout when the team had found a few moments to rest. Sam sleeps a few feet away, and Steve doesn’t intend to disturb him.

“I have good news,” Shuri says, and Steve rubs at his eyes before standing from the cot and stepping out into a hallway, leaning against the wall. His heart stutters at Shuri’s words.

“Bucky?” Steve asks, no other coherent thought coming to him thanks to his grogginess and the spontaneity of the call. He’s been in touch with Shuri and T’Challa since he left Wakanda last, Bucky sealed behind glass once again. It tore Steve up to watch Bucky seal himself away, and he tried to understand—of course, he  _understood_ —but… He’s just glad Bucky is in Shuri’s hands.

Shuri laughs a bit into the phone. “Yes. Sergeant Barnes has come out of cryostasis… He’s doing quite well. We’re continuing his rehabilitation process near the outskirts of Wakanda—he’d requested something simple, so… He’s tending to some goats.”

Steve hadn’t realised he’d began to smile until a slight chuckle bubbles out from his chest. “Goats?”

“They’re quite fond of him, if you’d believe it.”

“I believe it,” Steve replies, unable to wipe his grin. “Thanks for telling me, Shuri.”

There’s a slight pause, and then Shuri says, “That’s not all, Captain.”

One of Steve’s eyebrows hikes up. “No?”

“Well, naturally, Sergeant Barnes requested that you be made aware of his situation.” She stops for a moment, like that’s all there is to it. Steve clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, about to reply when Shuri continues:

“I think, Captain, that means that he wants to see you.”

It makes perfect sense after she’s said it—of course Bucky wouldn’t ask outrightly or request Steve to come see him. Bucky is modest; he still doesn’t understand that—or rather,  _why_ —Steve would drop just about anything at the snap of Bucky’s fingers. (This, Steve supposes, is a weakness. But nothing is about to change it.)

Steve lets out a long, happy kind of sigh. “I’ll be there,” he says, and he means it.

—

The rest of the team is unsurprisingly supportive of Steve’s departure to Wakanda; they all know that one of Steve’s primary priorities has always been keeping Bucky safe, and they all know that even if they  _wanted_ to argue that Steve stay, he’d find a way to go anyway.

They’re beyond capable to hold their own while he’s gone, anyway, and while Steve is well aware of this, they all repeatedly assure him so to ease any of the hesitancy he may have to leave them behind.

So, Steve leaves within the week.

T’Challa sends someone to pick him up at a location disclosed earlier that week, and the journey from his current hideout in Italy to Wakanda feels excruciatingly long, despite its relative brevity. Just, knowing Bucky is out of cryostasis, doing well, and tending to  _goats_ … Even five minutes would feel excruciatingly long. Steve hides a smile in the collar of his jacket so no one will ask about it.

—

Shuri debriefs Steve on Bucky’s treatment as they walk a dirt path that spans the way to Bucky’s abode; it’s a lot of terminology he doesn’t understand, but he nods along like he does. (Shuri can see right through him and he knows this, but he’s really too eager to see Bucky to care.)

They’re quiet for a few moments once Shuri has finished her description of Bucky’s recovery process, the sound of dirt crunching beneath their feet and the grass and trees rustling in the breeze playing in their ears.

Then, Steve inquires, “Does he know I’m coming?”

“If he knows you at all, I assume he expects you to be coming,” Shuri answers with a sly grin and a flickering gaze up at Steve’s face, “But, no, he hasn’t been explicitly informed.”

Steve lets out an amused huff, lifting a hand to scratch at the stubble on his jawline.

A moment later, Shuri stops walking. Steve takes another step before turning around, looking at her curiously.

She smiles, and then she says, “I suppose you can find your way on your own from here.” She looks ahead, to where a the trees part to an opening. A few houses dot the bank of a lake, and some children happily yip and scream as they chase each other around.

Steve nods slowly, “Thank you, Shuri.”

She nods back and replies, “Good luck, Cap.”

Then, she swivels on her heel and is on her way. Steve stands in place for a moment, heart hammering in his chest. There’s a deep breath, a roll of his shoulders, and he takes a step forward.

The children stop playing and stare at him as he walks into the clearing, so he smiles and waves at them. One shyly waves back, and the others’ gazes flick to one of the houses. Steve follows their lines of sight to see Bucky standing just inside the house; he ducks under the doorway and locks eyes with Steve, both of their faces breaking into smiles.

Bucky looks… Steve swallows thickly. He looks stunning. He’s far from pristine—there’s dirt caked onto his hand and his hair is greasy, tied half back. But still, even from just a glance, Steve can tell that it’s  _him_. A breath catches in Steve’s throat; Bucky with color in his cheeks and a real, genuine smile lighting up his face is a sight that Steve never thought he’d see again. And yet, here, now…

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says quietly as he walks closer, almost afraid if he talks too loudly, somehow this will cease to be real.

“Steve,” Bucky responds, larger smile melting down to a close-lipped one, his eyes still locked on Steve’s.

“You look good,” Steve says, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

At this, Bucky snorts amusedly. “Well, you look like hell, pal.”

Steve ducks his chin to his chest as he chuckles fondly, not about to argue it. Being a fugitive isn’t the best on looks.

“Hey,” Bucky says, taking another step forward. “C’mere.”

Bucky opens his arm and Steve gladly accepts the invitation, wrapping both his arms around Bucky’s torso and letting out a long, comfortable sigh as Bucky buries his face in the crook of Steve’s neck. Bucky rubs up and down between Steve’s shoulderblades with his hand, and after one moment of thought, Steve heaves Bucky off the ground and gives him a little spin. Bucky lets out a surprised grunt.

When Steve sets Bucky down and lets go, Bucky’s cheeks have even more color. Steve can’t wipe his smile—not that he’d even want to try. Feelings like this are hard to find and even harder to hold onto, so Steve reaches out and grabs this happiness, tucking it deep into his chest. On his watch, it will not escape him. Not now.

Bucky’s eyes flicker past Steve to the children that still watch them, and he chuckles softly at them, his eyelashes brushing against the tops of his cheeks as he looks bashfully down.

And, God dammit, Steve is so in love.

The children skitter off after Bucky acknowledges them, though Steve hardly notices because he’s so enraptured by Bucky just… being here, being  _Bucky_ —he doubts that he’ll get over this ecstatic kind of shock anytime soon.

Soon thereafter, Bucky leads Steve into his dwelling, both of them ducking under the arched entry while Bucky murmurs, “It’s not much, but it’s good that way.”

Steve nods to Bucky’s words, gesturing at the bed pushed into one of the corners of the room as if to say  _May I?_  To answer, Bucky sits down on the bed and pats the space next to him. Steve takes the cue and joins him, their thighs only inches from touching.

“You know,” Bucky says, then, “You could have warned me you were coming. I would have showered. Tidied up a bit.”

Steve laughs under his breath, “You don’t gotta do that for me, Buck.”

Bucky shrugs, “I would have, though.”

After leaning over just a touch to nudge Bucky playfully with his shoulder, Steve teases, “Since when do you think I care about how you look?”

Bucky blinks once, twice. “Didn’t you just tell me I looked good out there?”

“Well, yeah. Okay, so you caught me red handed.” For good measure, Steve lifts his hands, palms facing outwards. “But I meant it a little differently, you know.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, “I got it. ‘Cause I look like shit, but at least I’m me.” His eyes soften as he looks over at Steve. “It’s just nice to make you eat your words when you’re trying to pull one on me.”

At this, Steve laughs. It’s strange how easily laughter comes to him when he’s with Bucky, but a lot of things are just easy with Bucky. Easy smiles, easy closeness, easy  _vulnerability_.

That’s not to say that nothing is difficult with Bucky, but Steve would rather not think about that right now. Because Bucky’s leaning back on his arm, fingers splayed against the bedspread behind him, a certain casual countenance to him that brings Steve back to an alley in Brooklyn in the thirties, Bucky’s arm swung around Steve’s shoulder as he laughed like nothing in the world could touch them.

Steve’s eyes linger on Bucky’s hand against the bed, and before too long has passed, he lifts his own hand and sets it atop Bucky’s. His thumb runs along the bumps of Bucky’s knuckles before he splays his hand over and curls his fingers in the spaces between Bucky’s. His hand is warm, evidence of the blood that flows beneath his skin, evidence of life renewed in his veins.

And Bucky smiles lazily, lips barely pulling to reveal teeth, eyes lidded as he looks down at their hands. “Missed ya,” he murmurs, eyes flickering up for just a moment to meet Steve’s gaze.

Steve drinks in the sight, the way Bucky looks so comfortable in the amber light.

“It’s nice,” Bucky says, accompanied by a long breath out, “to be gentle again.”

This causes Steve’s breathing to hitch in his throat, but Bucky looks like he wants to continue, so Steve only replies with a soft squeeze to Bucky’s hand.

“I thought, maybe, they’d taken that from me. They’d taken so much, Steve…” Bucky’s breathing shakes, and Steve traps his own bottom lip between his teeth. “They’d taken so much, but not you. In the end, they could never take you, no matter how hard they tried.”

“Bucky,” Steve exhales, the word coming out far smaller than he’d intended. Still, he doesn’t know how to correctly portray the multitude of emotions that swim around his chest cavity; he manages to turn his body and take Bucky into another embrace, still holding hands—now palm-to-palm—but his other arm thrown around Bucky’s shoulder. He presses their cheeks together, squeezes Bucky a little tighter, and then says, “‘Til the end of the line, Buck, and further.”

The sentiment, over all the years and all the iterations, has never lost an ounce of its meaning. And Bucky caves to the words, shoulders laxing and breaths slow, deep.

They breath together, embraced just so, until Steve can’t be sure how long it’s been. He just knows it feels like home, and home isn’t something he’s often felt. He basks in it like sunlight.

And though, eventually, Bucky does pull away, he doesn’t pull far. He slides his hand out of Steve’s only to bring it up to cup Steve’s cheek, then to run the pads of his fingers along Steve’s jawline.

“Are you growing it out, now?” Bucky asks, head tilting curiously. His thumb brushes across the stubble on Steve’s chin.

Steve’s lips tug to a smile. “Thinkin’ about it.”

“Hm,” Bucky hums, long and low. “I think I like it.”

“Do ya?”

“Mhmm.” The hum is gravelly, and not a moment later, Bucky is leaning forward, catching Steve’s mouth with his own.

Years of quiet anticipation unravel in Steve’s stomach, filling him from head to toe with a certain lightness. He kisses Bucky back readily, giving as much of himself as Bucky will take. And Bucky does take—he takes Steve’s vulnerability, his trust, his breath—and he holds these things so carefully inside himself, not like something dangerous, but like something precious.

Bucky’s hand cups the back of Steve’s neck, thumb absently running back and forth across his skin. Their mouths hardly part for long—kisses long and languid, a breath here and there, a smile and the light clink of teeth—until Bucky presses his forehead to Steve’s, eyelids flickering open and lips a beautifully abused shade of red.

Steve can feel the way he blushes blotchily from the tips of his ears and down; his skin has always been akin to a telltale heart. And Bucky smiles a special kind of smile, soft and sweet, before he ducks his head down to press kisses to the crook of Steve’s neck, drawing breathy exhales out of him. The kisses travel up Steve’s neck and to his jaw, before they land again at his mouth—one, two, three—and Bucky pulls away. His hand slips from the back of Steve’s neck to his shoulder and then down the front of his chest, resting right above his heart.

“They could never take you from me,” Bucky repeats, quietly, because Steve’s the only one in the world that ever needs to hear it.

And in this moment, Steve knows that there are a whole lot of people out there that don’t want him to be happy, that don’t want Bucky to be happy, that don’t think they  _deserve_ to be happy. And maybe some of those people have valid reasoning, and maybe, another time, Steve would empathize with them.

But for now, after everything, he can’t think of anything he and Bucky deserve more than to be together. 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/liquidsaints) & [tumblr](http://liquidsaints.tumblr.com/)
> 
> thanks for reading! <3


End file.
